Page 80 of Leading Conviction
When he was met with static, Hawk’s heart dropped in his chest. Jaybird shifted uncomfortably on his feet.
“Devil?”
Silence.
CHAPTERTWENTY-EIGHT
“Devil!”
“He’s here!” Snake answered. Devil’s muffled voice entered the stream as he yelled through Snake’s headset. “My radio ate a round, boss. I’m all good.”
So much relief flooded Hawk’s veins that he didn’t even care that Devil had called him “boss.”
“Glad you’re here, brother. Copy. Over.”
It took him and Phoenix no time to follow Draco’s directions. He’d taken Vlad to a small room that looked like it would’ve been a plant manager’s office. Hawk’s other teammates had already taken off their goggles, so he did the same, shoving them up to see Draco with his flashlight pointed at the Russian, cornered on the ground and weaponless.
“Everyone good?”
Draco, ever the conversationalist, grunted his assent before he tilted his gun at an eerily placid Vlad.
“Never better,” Phoenix replied, but his lips pressed in a firm line.
“What about you?” Hawk asked the Russian, but the man’s blank expression gave him nothing. “Were you hurt?” Hawk finally asked.
“Nyet,” he answered, his broad face still emotionless. “I am not hurt.”
Hawk nodded and wiped the sweat off his brow with his long-sleeved shirt. “Okay, then. Let’s move him out.”
Draco nodded, but Phoenix’s brow furrowed. “What about those other guys? What if they’re still out there?”
“Clear,” Jaybird answered over the microphone. Shortly after, Snake repeated the same, finishing with, “All clear outside too.”
“Any sign of the others?” Hawk asked.
“No sign of the pros. Just a bunch of 7.62 casings,” Snake replied, mentioning the shells the Russian guns left behind.
“Who were those guys, man?” Jaybird asked through the headset, loud enough to echo into the office from the large room. “They looked legit.”
“I’m not sure—” Hawk stopped midsentence as the Russian’s face finally registered some emotion, a barely noticeable slight ticking up of his lips.
“Something funny?” Hawk asked.
“Only if you are me,” Vlad replied in his low voice. “Not if you are you.”
“What the fuck’s that mean?” Phoenix kicked the man’s ribs, making the Russian cough and Phoenix curse.
“Phoenix,” Hawk snapped.
“I owed him one,” Phoenix growled before swearing again and propping his hand against the wall. “But, fuck, man, the asshole’s wearing the General’s strong-ass Kevlar like we’ve got.”
“He is?” Draco asked. An odd smile spread across his face before he took a step back, lowering his assault rifle. In one fluid motion, he drew his sidearm from its holster and took aim.
Hawk’s eyes bugged out. “Draco, what the—”
Two shots thundered in the small space before Hawk could spur into action, clamping his hand on Draco’s wrist and shouldering him into the wall.
“Draco, what thefuck?”
